Conquered Shores

by Brooklynn Rivers

  “The deal has been made,” Olaf announced.

  “My king,” Ravenshield started, “Before it is done, I ask for her to be imprisoned until the Althing meets.”

  “Fair enough,” the king said and clapped his hands.

  Ravenshield looked on as the crowd dispersed, filtering out of the room. He heard Shannon weeping as two soldiers escorted her out of the door. This was the most dreadful thing he could have imagined. Terrible thoughts entered his mind. How he could prove her innocence?

  He looked down at his hands and saw scarlet stains on his palms. The longer he stared at them, the more they seemed to spread. The red melted and bled over every inch of his skin. His heart raced with fear. How was he going to sort this out? It seemed impossible to prove her innocence, and time was passing too quickly. He could not bear the thought of Magnus touching her, forcing her into his bed. Pressure began to build within him. There was no one to turn to for help, no one to listen. For once in his life, he felt helpless and vulnerable. He was alone. With the walls closing in on him, Ravenshield cupped his head in his hands and wept.

  Chapter 21

  The shackles hanging around Shannon’s wrists were so cold that the icy chill bled into her bones. Animal waste saturated the air—the putrid smell smothered her each time she took a breath. How much longer could she stand this? Her stomach rolled with another wave of nausea. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. Her jaws began to tingle as moisture gathered inside her mouth.

  Do not get sick, she said to herself. Breathe slowly and wait for it to pass. Shannon closed her eyes and tried to relax. Her muscles ached from the tension. The dull pain that radiated from the bruises on her wrists had gotten worse. She had to do something to relieve the discomfort—it was not good for her or for the bairn.

  Her bairn—

  A terrible feeling washed over her knowing that Ravenshield had abandoned her and his unborn child. He had sold her for a handful of silver. How could he do such a thing? She thought that he loved her and would do anything to protect her. All the nights they had spent locked in wild passion had meant nothing to him. The sweet promises of love were all a pack of lies to get what he wanted.

  Sadness streamed down her face. Disappointment filled her with grief so strong that she wanted to huddle in a corner and disappear. She had been foolish to trust a Viking, an enemy of her clan. Her careless actions would lead to death—her death as well as her child’s.

  And the Althing would soon decide when that would happen. There was no hope, she thought, twisting her wrists back and forth trying to break free. Shannon had lived among the Vikings long enough know their laws, and the Althing elders would surely make her pay the ultimate price for something she did not do. They did not care as long as Gorm’s death was avenged.

  Shannon slumped over and cried woefully as straw scraped against her face. Each tear that fell burned her skin, stained her with sorrow so bitter that it left her scarred and hopeless. Darkness closed in around her. She was alone, exiled. A chill spread across her body, numbing her bones. Nothing could stop fate, she thought, staring into the shadows.

  Her eyes grew heavy as fog formed on the dirt floor. Tendrils of grey mist curled in the air and reached out for her. She tried to scoot away, but it swelled and rolled closer. Fear seized her as the vapor thickened and spread. It loomed in front of her, taunting her, stretching out so far that it consumed every inch of the room.

  “Shannon,” a voice echoed from within the mist.

  “Who’s there?” Shannon asked, swallowing hard as the cloud formed a figure of a woman. Her hair was long and the color of the sunset. Her eyes were like sparkling sapphires, bright and bold. A necklace of precious stones hung around her neck. Feathers. Shannon saw feathers cloaked around the woman’s shoulders, cascading down around her like wings. “Are ye an angel?”

  “In your mind, I am,” the woman smiled.

  “What’re you doin’ here?”

  “Do not fear me. I am here to help,” Her voice sounded like bells quietly ringing in the wind. “Though a veil of darkness has fallen upon you and Ravenshield, you must not lose faith.”

  “Faith? I’ve none left.”

  “You cannot mean that.”

  “I do,” Shannon explained, looking down, “It doesnae matter. My life is forfeit, and my bairn willnae have a chance to live.”

  “Stay strong, and follow your heart.”

  “How can I when the man I love has abandoned me?”

  “He has not abandoned you,” she said, “The time will come when all eyes shall open, and the truth will be revealed.”

  “It’s too late.”

  “Ravenshield is in mortal danger, and you hold the key to his fate.”

  “But I don’know what to do.”

  “Use the light of fire to conquer your enemy.”

  “What light?” Shannon asked.

  “When the time comes, you will know,” the angel said, “Tears of sorrow can heal all wounds.”

  The mist started to dissolve slowly, and Shannon’s angel faded into the shadows. “Wait! Don’ leave me!”

  Suddenly, light spilled into the room as the iron door creaked open. Shannon shielded her eyes with her hands keeping the bright glow from blinding her. Blood rushed through her veins. They have come, she thought. The Vikings were ready to deliver their final judgment, and there was no use in fighting any longer. She hung her head and waited for them to drag her away—away to her judgment.

  “Shannon?”

  “Gerta?” Shannon looked up nervously. “Is that ye?”

  “Yes, lass,” she said, running to Shannon’s side, “It’s me.”

  “Thanks be to God,” Shannon cried, “I’m so frightened.”

  “I know ye didnae do it,” Gerta whispered, stroking Shannon’s hair. “Gunnar knows it too.”

  “No he doesnae. He sold me,” she sobbed, “Why would he do such a thing? He doesnae want me anymore.”

  “No, lass. He had no choice,” she replied. “It’s Viking law and nothin’ was goin’ to change King Olaf’s mind. But if I know Ravenshield, he’s searchin’ for the killer right now.”

  “It’s too late, Gerta,” Shannon wailed, “I’m left to die.”

  “No,” Gerta said, “You mustnae think that way. I won’ let that happen.”

  Shannon turned to her, saying, “Gerta, I need to tell ye somethin’ that I’ve never told anyone before.”

  “What is it, lass?”

  “I see things,” she said, “I have visions that tell of the future.”

  Gerta’s jaw dropped.

  “Listen to me,” Shannon said, “I was visited by an angel tonight. A beautiful angel with hair as fine as silk. She wore a necklace of silver and stones, and her wings were so large that they covered her body. She spoke to me.”

  Gerta hung on every word. “What did she say?”

  “She told me to use the light of fire to conquer my enemy,” Shannon explained.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’ know,” she sighed, “I cannae handle this anymore.”

  “No!” Gerta exclaimed, “Ye cannae give up!”

  “I’ve no choice.”

  “Run away,” Gerta said, “I’ll help ye.”

  “And where will I go?” Shannon asked. “They’d hunt me down before I’d leave the gates.”

  “Ye could hide in the forest and make yer way back to Bennetraige.”

  “And risk running into the Woodland Witch? I’d rather face Vikings.”

  “Shannon,” Gerta whispered, “Ursa is dead.”

  “What?” Shannon asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “Gunnar went to the forest to seek answers and found her,” Gerta explained, “Someone killed her.”

  Shannon gasped. “Did Gunnar catch who did it?”

  “No, but Kiera is nowhere to be found,” she went on, “The fish that were missin’ from the smokehouse were found in yer belongings.”

  “I’ve s
tolen nothin’,” Shannon declared, “Kiera is the one responsible for all of this. I know it. She’s the one who killed Gorm and planted the yew berries in my pouch so everyone would blame me.”

  “And she put the smoked fish in your belongings to make it look like ye were goin’ to run,” Gerta added.

  “I’d stake my life on it, but the Althing will never believe me,” Shannon sighed, “The elders want justice. It doesnae matter who pays the price as long as Gorm’s death is avenged.”

  “I won’ have ye give up now,” Gerta urged, “Ravenshield will find a way to get ye out of this mess.”

  “Gerta, it’s too late. There’s nothin’ he can do to help me.”

  “Then, there’s only one thing left for ye to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Get out of Dublin as fast as ye can.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” Shannon asked, showing the shackles around her wrists.

  “Tomorrow is the celebration of Freya’s Harvest and every Viking will gather for a night of sex after the grand feast. Around twilight, the guard will leave his post and go to one of the orgies. This will give me enough time to steal the keys and free ye.”

  “What about Magnus?”

  “Ye won’ have to worry about Magnus. He’ll have one thing on his mind. By the time the orgy is over, you’ll be far away from Dublin.”

  For the first time, Shannon had a glimmer of hope. Perhaps her fate had not been sealed after all. With Gerta’s help, she could escape and save her unborn child. She turned to Gerta and smiled, “I cannae do this without ye, Gerta.”

  “I’ll come for ye.” Gerta hugged her tightly. “Watch for me.”

  “Thank ye,” Shannon whispered, watching Gerta shuffle out of the cell.

  Shannon heard the door slam shut and fear swallowed her once again. An icy wind blew in from the barred window that begged her to look outside. She scooted closer and craned her neck, watching Gerta’s shadow melt into the darkness. Hopefully, Gunnar will come for her so she would not have to run, she thought. If not, she would have to use any means to get as far away from Dublin as possible.

  She leaned over and rested her head on the iron bar thinking of what tomorrow could bring. After Gerta unlocked the chains, Shannon would be free. Or would she? Her body trembled as thoughts of braving the forest alone entered her mind. Wolves. Thieves. Darkness. She had no other choice but to face the unknown evil that awaited her.

  “Dear God,” she prayed, holding on to her cross, “Please help me.”

  Chapter 22

  “Kiera!”

  Ravenshield’s voice echoed through the longhouse as he strode inside. She had to be hiding somewhere, and he was determined to find her. He was convinced that Kiera knew more than what she was telling. “Kiera, where are you?”

  He marched through the corridor and made his way to the other side. Where was she? The bakehouse. Ravenshield dashed out of the door and sprinted down the path toward the bakehouse. He was going to get the truth from Kiera even if he had to wring it out of her. In his heart, he knew that Shannon was innocent, but he needed to find proof that she had nothing to do with Gorm’s death before the Althing met. Time was running out. Soon, Magnus would come for Shannon, and there would be no way to get her back.

  With a turn of the latch, Ravenshield opened the door and went inside. The smell of baked bread from the day before still lingered in the air. A thin dust of flour covered the worktable where Gerta and Shannon had worked tirelessly in preparation for last evening’s feast. Clay pots and bowls were scattered about.

  “Kiera!”

  Ravenshield turned around and knocked one of the bowls off of the table. It crashed to the floor, propelling shards of clay across the room. A large chunk slid under the corner bench and slammed against the wall. He walked over, hearing bits of clay crunch under his boots. As he bent down to pick up a large piece, he noticed something shoved between two timbers in the wall.

  “What is this?” he whispered, bending down to investigate. A thin piece of cloth had been stuffed between two planks.

  He grabbed it and tugged gently. The board buckled until popped out, falling on the floor. Ravenshield got down on his knees and reached in with one hand—something was in there. He could feel it. Smooth with round edges. Latching on to the lip, he pulled it through the gap.

  “What do we have here?” he asked himself, peeling the cloth back to reveal a clay pot and grinder—both were stained red.

  Ravenshield inspected the cloth closely, noting every detail. Tiny seeds stuck to thick scarlet streaks that bled over the material. He held it to his nose and sniffed.

  “Yew berry,” he whispered. The pungent odor left no doubt in his mind on what had been going on inside the bakehouse. Someone had been making poison.

  He ran his thumb along the fabric, studying the distinct weave. A weave typically found in Gaul, Kiera’s homeland. Gunnar’s heart pounded against his chest furiously as a sigh escaped his lips. He had found proof, but would it be enough to set Shannon free?

  No, he thought, draping the cloth over the pot and grinder as he set it on the table. He needed to find Kiera and bring her to King Olaf. If he could prove that Kiera was the one who had poisoned Gorm, then Shannon would be freed. But there was not a lot of time left. Magnus was coming for Shannon at daybreak, and nothing could save her if he waited much longer.

  Sweat poured from his brow. Fear shot through his veins. His hands trembled, thinking of Shannon’s fate if he would fail. He had to find Kiera before it was too late. Ravenshield ran outside and saw the bonfires burning. Ash floated in the air, smoke teased his nostrils. Freya’s Harvest had begun.

  In the distance, Ravenshield heard drumbeats droning on, calling to him. The sensual sounds of woodpipe and lyre drifted on the winds. The melodic tones teased his ears—the orgies had begun. And where the orgies were, Kiera would be there, ready and willing.

  He followed the hypnotic music as it saturated his senses, luring him toward Magnus’ longhouse. Weaving his way to the entrance, he smelled a sweet aroma that lingered in the air. A soft glow spilled out from inside as bodhrans pulsed rhythmically. In the past, he would have indulged himself in the pleasures of the flesh, but not this time. He had to find Kiera in order to save Shannon.

  He unlatched the door and entered, meandering through the sea of naked bodies writhing on the floor. Soft moans hovered in the air as he searched for her. It was impossible to see clearly because of the thick smoke.

  He ventured further where the haze had thinned just enough for him to catch a glimpse of Magnus and two women enter the room arm-in-arm. Kissing. Touching. They lowered themselves on a floor scattered with animal pelts and slowly undressed each other, moving their bodies to the rhythm of the music.

  Ravenshield looked on as the red-haired woman nestled down and opened her legs, begging to be pleased. Before he could blink, the dark-haired slave had gotten down on all fours and had dipped her head between two milky-white thighs. This was too much to fight, he thought, hearing them moan.

  His cock hardened instantly, watching one lave the other. Flesh on flesh. Licking. Sucking. Heat rose within him as beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. Temptation overwhelmed him. He wanted to join them, he needed to feel their release—and to feel his own.

  Stay in control, he thought as desire grew steadily. Saving Shannon was his main concern, but the potent incense filling the room dulled his thoughts, lowered his impulses. How could he defend against what was happening before him?

  Ravenshield swallowed the lust that had built inside of him while Magnus mounted the woman from behind. Back and forth, in and out, he looked on as the warrior thrust inside her while the other rocked her hips up and down moaning in pleasure. Skin on skin. Body against body. Pulsing. Pounding—deeper. Faster.

  Ravenshield looked away, hearing screams of passion shatter the air. Focus, he told himself as his head started to swirl. His vision started to blur, his skin started to ting
le. The room started to spin faster. Out of control. He could not keep his balance. He grabbed his head trying to steady himself. Louder and louder, the music droned in his ears.

  “Ravenshield.”

  Who was calling his name? Gunnar turned around and staggered down the narrow path. His legs were numb, his arms ached. The smoke from the fertility herbs was too strong to resist.

  “Ravenshield...”

  He spun around too quickly and fell into the arms of two naked women—the same two who were with Magnus. Two sets of hands ran along both sides of his body caressing him, massaging him. Before he could refuse them, they had peeled off his tunic.

  “No,” he said, trying to push them away but his arms were too weak.

  “Come, Ravenshield,” one of them said, “We have been waiting for you.”

  He looked into her sapphire eyes and smiled, watching her long dark hair cascade seductively over her shoulders. His eyes trailed down her body watching her breasts rise and fall with each breath. She called to him, begging him to come to her. Why would he want to deny one so beautiful?

  “Give in,” a voice inside his head whispered, “You know this is what you want.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, sucking on his tongue, chipping away at his defenses. The other lowered him to the ground and ran her hand along the inside of his thigh. She scorched his skin with her fingers. His senses heightened. Every nerve in his body came alive.

  “Lie down with us,” one of them said, wrapping her leg around his, “And we will give you what you desire.”

  “I-I cannot,” he stammered, “Must save Shannon.”

  “Ravenshield,” Magnus’ voice echoed, “Take them. Take them both.”

  “Magnus,” he said slowly, “Help me.”

  “As you wish.” Magnus slithered next to him and slid the fertility pipe between his lips. “Smoke.”

  Ravenshield closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, relishing the sweet taste, enjoying the way it made him feel. He wanted more—he craved it. The herb aroused him, stirred a passion that grew stronger with each passing moment.